Cookery
by chimney leaf
Summary: The way to a saiyan's heart is through his stomach. Just a little Gh/Vi nonsense I cooked up.


Videl perused the fresh vegetables section of the supermarket. She had almost all of her ingredients nestled into the basket that kept battering against her side. But all of this hassle was worth it.

She was definitely nervous, in fact she was probably more nervous than at any other time in her life. Revealing her love to Gohan was nothing compared to this.

Because now she was cooking for him.

The boy that had enjoyed Son Chichi's cooking for pretty much every day of his entire life, save a year or two here and there.

She had told him to eat as much as possible before he came over, because she doubted in her ability to fully sate his ravenous appetite. Not only had she never cooked for him before, she had never cooked full stop.

And now, mere hours before he was due to knock on her door she was scared half to death. What if she didn't match up to the standard set by Chichi? He'd never want to marry her then, maybe he'd even leave her and decide to remain a bachelor, living at home forever. Or worse still, actively seek out someone that would be able to take care of him properly.

The lessons from her (hopefully) soon-to-be mother-in-law, and those from the assorted staff and even a piece of advice from Erasa (try not to drop things!) were suddenly starting to cloud over. Maybe this was just a big mistake, one that she didn't dare to back out of.

-

The dark haired girl hummed a cheerful tune as she chopped the onions up carefully and tossed them into the simmering pan. Her initial panic at the supermarket had finally subsided to be replaced by the butterflies once again.

The fact that they would be alone didn't really help. It wasn't as though it was the first time that they would be alone together, far from it. She blushed as she recalled some of the dates where they had been very alone together. She giggled when she remembered just what had become of those evenings. Then she checked around that there was nobody listening on her laughter. Nobody but Gohan had heard her giggle since she had entered her teenage years.

She peered up at the clock. He would be here soon, and luckily she seemed to be on time with her preparations. As the carrots went into the pot she heard the loud rapping on the heavy oak door. For some reason he never used the doorbell. Maybe that was due to the fact that it played a loop of one of Mr Satan's battle cries.

The girl bounded up the door and beamed at him when she pulled it open. He grinned back and pulled her close. It had been a week since they had seen each other in person, Videl having to travel with her father for a short while. Her father was still away and she had given the staff a weekend off, more so that the two of them could be alone together than anything.

He kissed her gently and ran his fingertips through her hair as he pulled back. She never would have guessed how affectionate he could be when she first met him.

"I missed you." He whispered into her ear.

"I missed you more."

He laughed as she began leading him to the dining room. "Let's not get into that argument again."

She noticed that he was holding a bottle in his hand. "Wine?" She questioned.

He looked at her sheepishly. "My mother and Bulma knew what you were cooking and they told me what would go with it. I didn't really know what they meant really..."

Upon taking the wine from him she studied the label. "This is classy stuff."

"You've heard of it?" He questioned.

"I am a classy girl after all. Now sit down, I'm nearly done."

He did as ordered, taking a seat where he normally sat when he had meals here. They were currently in the 'informal' dining room, but it was anything but modest. It was the only room where they could sit facing each other at a table without having to look across twelve feet of solid oak.

He had eaten at the house on a number of occasions, sometimes in the _really_ posh room, but they had always been large scale, family occasions, and Vegeta had even been at one of them. But of course, the cook that maintained a permanent residence, as well as the numerous maids and the butler had produced those meals.

After a few minutes she wandered in looking rather apprehensive. Gohan looked at the meal that had been placed before him. He didn't know what she had to be afraid of, it looked perfectly fine to him.

But then she sat down opposite him, their faces just a couple of feet apart. And she told him to try it. Which he did.

"Mmmm." God, he hoped she couldn't see straight through him. It wasn't as though it was inedible, he was, after all, a Saiyan. He would eat pretty much anything if it had been alive at one time or another.

But he knew what she had cooked, and he knew what it was _supposed_ to taste like. The subtle differences were rather obvious to his sensitive taste buds.

He smiled across the table to inspire some confidence in the girl and she smiled back. But he knew her far too well. She knew only too well, because she had tasted it as well.

-

They had both managed to clear their plates, Gohan because he was actually starting to enjoy it, once he had got past its subtleties, and Videl because she felt that she owed it to herself to finish her first home cooked meal.

Now they were conscientiously washing the dishes, before settling down for the night on the sofa together.

They had spoken during their meal but now Videl seemed as though she didn't want to engage in any sort of conversation. He dragged his gaze from the darkness outside the window onto the woman that he loved.

She was gazing forlornly into the soapy water, and he was sure that he heard a sniffle that she desperately tried to repress.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked gently of her.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, barely loud enough for him to pick up.

"Whatever for?"

"I tried so hard, I really did, but I'm just not up to it. Maybe we should just break up now and get it all over with." She didn't look at him as she spoke, the words extremely difficult to express.

"You want to break up with me?" He breathed.

"No, but I'm sure that you want to break up with me after that travesty of a meal. I'll never live up to your mother, I'll never be able to take care of you properly."

"Do you think that I want to turn you into my personal slave, that I want you just to wash my dirty laundry and cook my meals?"

"No, but..."

"It doesn't matter if you can't cook. Neither can I, we're both still young, it's just one of those things that we'll have to learn together."

"But your mother..."

"Nothing against my mother but all she did as a teenager was plot ways in which to ensnare my dad, which included learning how to cook. I think that we're a little bit different from those pair."

"I just wanted tonight to be perfect." He watched a tear slowly slide down her cheek, and he grasped her face gently in his hands.

"You are perfect, at least to me." He bent his head a little and planted his lips softly onto her own. She inadvertently dropped the plate that she had been holding, but he caught it instinctively, placing it blindly back into the sink.

He pulled away, much to her distaste. "When we're married, you won't just be a housewife. That works for my mother, but I think that you're going to want something more."

"Is that some sort of proposal?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Not really." She looked confused, "Don't worry, you'll get one of those soon, a proper one."

Before she could say anything he had snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her from the ground onto his chest. She melted into him and the overwhelming feelings of safety and warmth overtook her, as he kissed her with all of the love he held.

Their lips parted for a moment and he spoke huskily. "Although you do look sexier than ever with that apron on."


End file.
